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Authors: Marni Bates

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BOOK: Decked with Holly
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Chapter 32
Dominic
 
I
had the suite to myself and I planned on taking full advantage of the privacy.
My first instinct was to Skype the guys, but I knew they would give me crap for waking up early for yoga. Chris would definitely tell me to grow a pair and ask Holly out, already. I could probably shut them up, or at least distract them, if I mentioned that it had only taken a simple phone call and everything had been booked and paid for on the house. There were times when having a cruise ship owner owe you a favor comes in handy.
Although the
I'm sorry my daughter screwed up your reputation
benefit package didn't cover the boutique.
Or what I had planned on giving her later.
I definitely didn't want to tell the guys about
that,
so I decided to simply not make the call. Still, I wasn't enjoying the suite as much as I expected. I kept pacing the room before I decided to drum on the coffee table and try to compose another song instead.
As far as lyrics go,
I don't know if she likes me back. I feel like an idiot. La la la. I'm pathetic
were less than inspired. They were insipid.
I was supposed to be writing incredible music, not mooning over a girl who broke into my room, screeched in my shower, and, oh yeah,
kept asking if I was gay
.
And I shouldn't have enjoyed any of it.
Leave it to Holly Disaster to complicate my brilliant plan by making me think that maybe we were . . . something. Not the sickeningly adorable couple the press had photographed, but
something,
nonetheless.
And now she was eighteen.
Sure, our age gap had been weird at first, but it wasn't like I'd
planned
on getting stuck with an underage felon-in-training. Just like there was no way I could spend the night on the sofa without imagining what it would be like to join Holly in bed. Not the first time my mind had wandered in that direction either.
But I didn't want guys like Chris paying attention to her that way. Dealing with intense family tragedy might have made Holly more mature for her age, but it hadn't made her any less susceptible to flattery. It had probably had the opposite effect, actually. One red rose on her breakfast tray and she was practically twirling around the suite. Something that an unscrupulous someone could use to his advantage.
Someone, in this case, being me.
But even though I had everything planned out, I wasn't prepared for Holly to stroll into the dining room . . . with a little old lady on each arm.
Well, that was one way to make an entrance.
Holly's wide grin tipped me off that she had some ridiculous scheme in mind. I just hoped that I wasn't the target this time. I was confused enough without adding any more women into the equation.
I had nothing to worry about, because
somehow
in the confusion of setting two more places at the table, Holly's new friends ended up sandwiching her grandpa.
One of them winked, stuck out her hand, and said, “Hi, there, handsome. I'm Deborah.”
It was almost enough to make me pity the man.
Then again, after all the interrogations Holly's grandpa had put me through I wasn't going to step in for him now. He could deal with the women on his own. Although he certainly seemed to be struggling when the women launched into how much they liked Holly, how hard it must have been for him to raise her on his own, how sorry they were to hear about his wife's passing, etc.
If I wasn't mistaken, a gleam of panic entered his eyes.
Poor devil.
Still, I couldn't focus on him when Holly scooted her chair closer to mine. She looked . . . incredible. Completely unlike a pigeon amid peacocks now, although her cousins did still look pretty hot. One of them (Allison, maybe?) was in a short strapless number that left very little to the imagination.
Holly's little black dress, on the other hand, left me imagining plenty. But she packed one hell of a punch in it.
“So I take it you made some new friends today.”
Holly smiled up at me. “Absolutely. In fact, they helped me pick out this dress.”
Apparently, the old ladies had a sense of style.
“It's, uh, nice.” I used the pretense of surveying the dress as an excuse for yet another slow once-over.
Holly narrowed her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”
Hoping to throw her off guard, I leaned in and whispered, “You look stunning, Holly.”
She seemed momentarily frozen but recovered quickly, sliding her arm around my neck. “Thanks. Hannah and Deborah want to thank you for their outfits too.”
“Uh, what?”
“I made sure they charged everything to the suite, of course.”
“What?”
“Kidding.” She didn't remove her arm, though. In fact, she leaned in even closer.
Excellent.
“Nice harem you set up for your grandpa.”
Deborah chose that moment to giggle uproariously. “Oh, David! You're hy-sterical!”
The man looked positively terrified.
“Aren't they great?” Holly released me to focus on her menu instead. “I think he needs to get out more often. Meet women his age. Socialize.”
“So this is your attempt at forcing him into speed-dating.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “Is it that obvious?”
“Sandwiching him between them wasn't exactly subtle.”
Holly lifted her chin defiantly. “Subtlety doesn't matter if it makes him happy.”
“Yeah, he's obviously important to you.”
Her voice lowered, turning gravelly and rough. “He took me in when I had
nobody
.
Important
is an understatement.”
Well, damn. I really hoped he liked me, then.
Holly cleared her throat. “Uh, so on a lighter note: What else do you have planned for tonight?”
“You'll see.”
“When?”
“Later.”
Any further questions were postponed when one of the twins sauntered over, gripped Holly's shoulder, and announced, “Allie and I want to give you a little present. Now. In private.”
Holly pointed to her menu. “That sounds great, but as you can see I'm a bit busy right now, so if you—”
“It's really more of a belated Christmas present.
Santa
-approved.”
I don't know why that would rattle Holly's cool composure, but she glanced from me to her grandpa to me then back to the twins.
“Of course.” Holly's smile was every bit as fake as her cousins'. “How . . . sweet.”
“Well, we know how much it means to you.” Claire (or was it Allison?) flipped her hair back obnoxiously.
“Right.” Holly turned to me. “I have to settle something, but it shouldn't take long.”
Flanked by her cousins, Holly strode out of the dining room, completely oblivious to the way Mr. Ridgley and his daughter sat gawking from a nearby table. Mr. Ridgley probably wanted to use Holly's makeover for the cruise ship brochure while his daughter envied the way she effortlessly commanded the attention of the room.
And I was so stupidly distracted watching her move in that killer dress that I failed to notice the paparazzi snapping pictures from the hallway.
I should have expected it. I'm a rock star: Sharing private moments with the public comes with the territory and definitely should have factored into my plans.
But I hadn't anticipated just how badly they could screw everything up.
Chapter 33
Holly
 
T
he girls had picked the wrong time to mess with me.
Normally, they would have perfected their blackmail technique over a longer period of time, but with the New Year's party approaching, they needed to act fast.
Except I no longer cared if those photos were released.
Okay, I cared. I mean, nobody in their right mind
wants
photos passed around school of themselves tackling Santa in a ridiculously short skirt. But the kids most likely to mock me for it would probably be too busy sucking up to the fake girlfriend of a rock star. Which just so happened to be me.
I refused to waste any more time or energy obsessing over my cousins' next evil plan.
So I turned on them the instant we reached the bathroom. “You know what? I'm going to make this really simple. You've got two options: Either you email those photos in a pathetic attempt to embarrass me
or you get over yourselves
.”
The twins glared at me, and I knew I was wasting my breath. The pair of them would probably continue treating others like crap long after they graduated from college. I doubted that they would ever change. That's what bitchy people do before they spawn and raise smaller bitchy people.
“The choice is yours,” I continued. “But family or not: I will go for the jugular if you ever mess with me again.”
Then I turned on my heels and marched out of the bathroom before they could test my newfound resolve. I didn't want to give them an opening to put me down, especially since I had a boy waiting who was trying to make me feel special. One who just might like
me,
the girl he had originally mistaken for a pregnant zombie.
I thought Nick was enjoying my birthday dinner too . . . even though Aunt Jessica detailed her “hot” diet (only consume things at a tongue-scalding temperature) and suggested that he share it with his actress friends. He just nodded noncommittally and changed the subject with only the hint of an amused smirk on his face.
Meanwhile, I ignored the majority of my family, choosing instead to concentrate on the people who made me feel good.
A tactic I probably should have started years ago, but better late than never.
So my aunt's present of a one-year subscription to a local gym didn't faze me. I thanked her politely and then moved on to my grandpa's gifts. That's where I hit pay dirt. He had picked up on all the not-so-subtle hints I'd been dropping about needing new art supplies. A new set of the high-quality graphite pencils, acrylic paints, a brand-new sketchbook, and an X-Acto knife made me want to put it all to good use right away. It was a struggle for me not to bail on the rest of my own dinner.
As excited as I was about the art supplies, I couldn't stop wondering whether Nick had a present for me too. Which was completely selfish since Nick had already gone way above the boyfriend call of duty. The guy didn't owe me a thing. If anything, I felt like I ought to be writing a glowing commendation to
People
about him or something.
And for the first time, I didn't want to go right back to the suite after dinner. I wanted to linger in the make-believe instead. Just for a little while longer. Which might explain why I felt my heart picking up speed as Nick and I separated from the group at the end of the meal. His hand pressing firmly against the small of my back, Nick steered me into one of the lounges. There was a woman in a sparkly dress belting out classic jazz standards, and I felt like we had somehow slipped back in time.
Nick set my bag of presents down on a chair and tugged me onto the dance floor even though I hissed, “I don't know how to dance to this!”
The only people who
did
know what they were doing were couples my grandpa's age who had probably been waltzing together for the past fifty years.
“You know, I actually guessed that,” Nick whispered back. “Luckily, this is one of those dances where all you have to do is look pretty and follow my lead.”
“But I'm not good at taking directions!”
“No kidding.”
I intentionally stepped on his foot and smiled sweetly up at him. “Sorry. Tripped.”
Nick spun me around in a quick move that had me plastered against him, clinging desperately so that I wouldn't land on my face. Which was probably the result he had been looking for all along, since he didn't release me. Although I couldn't help thinking that my new high heels should have come with a warning label attached.
Still, I managed to stay upright and we bungled our way through the rest of the song. We were probably the worst couple on the floor but it didn't matter. Nick kept spinning me until I was clutching his shirt and laughing so hard I didn't care if we looked like complete idiots. Not that any of the surrounding couples paid us much attention, beyond glancing over and mumbling about young love.
Not that we were in love. We were in . . . like?
That was probably allowed in a fake romance. Not that anyone had ever written down a set of rules for pretending to date a celebrity. Still, it made sense to me. You can
like
the other person, but get any closer than that and your heart will be pulverized with the carnage displayed on the glossy covers of magazines across America.
But when Nick pulled me into a secluded corner of the room and reached into his suit jacket everything else faded.
“I have something for you.” Nick handed me a small black box. “Happy birthday, Holly.”
All I could think was: That's the kind of box rings come in. Rings with diamonds. Rings that have strings attached with words like
love, commitment, forever,
and
promise.
All words that I wasn't prepared to say.
Whatever was in that box, I wasn't ready for it.
Right?
An engagement was off the table, but if this was Nick's attempt at turning our relationship into something real . . . that had my racing heart tripping all over itself.
I was already a complete mess.
“Come on, Holly,” he said awkwardly, probably because I was staring at his present as if it might explode. “It's not pepper spray, I swear.”
I managed a weak smile and, repeating my mantra of the trip (I will
not
throw up. I will
not
throw up), I cracked open the velvet lid.
It wasn't a ring.
Instead it was a necklace with a single dark gray pearl glowing inside.
“It's . . . it's, uh, beautiful,” I croaked. Which was one hell of an understatement. Jewelry wasn't exactly my thing, mainly because it took time and energy to match it with an outfit. But I doubted this necklace would clash with anything, including my everyday jeans and T-shirts . . . and if Nick helped me with the clasp I might never take it off.
“I'm glad you like it.”
“Uh . . . yeah. It's really . . . well, thanks.” Damn, his gift had reduced me to incoherence. “I . . . uh—”
He shut me up by kissing me.
And it should have been perfect . . . but when the bright flash of the paparazzi cameras caught us mid-kiss, I knew it was a lie. He had set up the whole damn thing for the photographers.
Dominic Wyatt just wanted to sell the act.
And in that moment, I honestly hated him. It was one thing to pretend that we were in a relationship, but to make it seem
this
real . . . that was low.
I felt stupid for falling for his act in the first place. It's not like he hadn't been up front about caring more about his image than anything else. That was why we had started our fake relationship in the first place. I should have known better. Which only made me more determined to disembark in LA with my pride intact.
“Well,” I said coolly. “Thanks for the necklace. It really helps sell the act, don't you think? I'll be sure to give it back to you after our amicable media split.”
Nick looked simultaneously confused, wary, and hurt. Oh, yeah, he could definitely make a career in acting. “What are you talking about?”
“I get it, Nick,” I assured him. “We've both been using each other and . . . you more than lived up to your end of the deal.” I pasted on a fake smile and told myself to hold it together. “Now it's time for me to move on.”
He leaned against the wall with an inscrutable look on his face, and I realized that I didn't know the first thing about him. Because the guy I thought was Dominic Wyatt would never sell out such a personal moment to the press.
And he wouldn't look at me with that mixture of disdain and contempt.
“So that's it. You've had enough.”
“Well.” I pretended to consider the situation even though I didn't have any options. The sooner I ended this farce the better. “I think it's in everyone's best interest to keep this short.” I stepped back and wobbled on my heels.
Keep it together just a little longer.
“It's been great, Nick. And if it weren't for you, I'd still be a high school nobody instead of the girl who briefly dated a rock star.” I laughed because the alternative would make me look like a heartbroken idiot. Not going to happen. “Let me know if any of your famous friends ever need a fake relationship. I think I'm getting the hang of it.”
Then I gave a small finger wave to the paparazzi . . . and left.
I was officially an adult and yet I had never felt so young and clueless.
Ironic, I guess, but I still didn't feel like laughing.
BOOK: Decked with Holly
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